


Betrayal

by The_Jashinist



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Canon, Gen, Well - Freeform, i say alternate because, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:25:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14256903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jashinist/pseuds/The_Jashinist
Summary: There are a lot of Noxians Urgot was expecting to face in the Dredge, but not this one.





	Betrayal

Noxian hadn’t been allowed in the Dredge since Urgot took control.  If one hapless idiot found his way in, he was dead before morning, but two hapless idiots?  As far as Urgot was concerned, that was a dream come true.

The first, the obvious leader, was robed and masked so it was difficult to discern features, but Urgot had lived in Noxus, he knew that wasn’t the only thing you needed to look for in a Noxian.  His stance, his movements, any quirks or injuries that stunted something, they all mattered in a fight.  Years in Zaun hadn’t changed Urgot’s first line of offense, the one Boram taught him.

_The easiest way to defeat an opponent is to look at how they move._

The Noxian gave a curt, shallow bow, a greeting with little formality and more than its fair share of contempt.

“Isn’t this a **treat**?” Urgot sneered, “A Noxian warmason at my door.”

“I am no warmason,” the Noxian promised, his voice soft, melodic, and chillingly familiar, “but I am here to talk.”

“Perhaps your **Master** didn’t tell you,” Urgot pointed his cannon arm at the Noxian, “I don’t **talk** to Noxians.”

“Oh no, I’ve been told,” the Noxian agreed, “the chem-barons say the same.  You don’t talk to anyone in Zaun you deem ‘in power’, which is funny, a lot of people call you a baron, in the sump anyway.  What makes you different?”

“They are **men** ,” Urgot snarled.

“And you’re not a man?”

Urgot bared the grinding blades hidden within his gut, “Do I look like a man to you?”

“Yes,” the Noxian replied, speaking so matter-of-factly that Urgot could feel his blood boil, “men, after all, think talking big and baring blades make you strong.  **You** always thought that, and look where it got you.”

Urgot grabbed the Noxian by his collar, the other Noxian, who had, until now stayed so still Urgot had forgotten he was there, took a step forwards.

“What do you know about me?” Urgot growled, “You’re no different from every other Noxian.  You’re weak, and you won’t survive.”

“How do you know?” the Noxian tilted his head to the side, and Urgot felt a shudder-inducing sense of familiarity.  The image of a grinning man flashed through his mind.  Urgot dropped the man and pointed his cannon at him.

“If you think yourself strong,” Urgot snarled, “prove it.”

Urgot fired his cannon.  The Noxian ducked under the shot and bolted between Urgot’s legs.  A hand, pale and tipped with claw-like nails, emerged from one sleeve, his fingertips crackling with vibrant blue flames.  Again, these flames rang familiar in Urgot’s mind, so too the nails, and the lotus-shaped brand that glowed blue on the Noxian’s palm.

It was all too familiar, and yet so distant.

In frustration, Urgot charged the Noxian, catching the back of his robes as he tried to dodge.  The Noxian gave a half-turn, slipping free of the robes and landing unsteadily.  He had to catch himself on a guardrail to steady himself.  The man’s form, though familiar, could be any assassin from Noxus’s well-lined ranks, all of them were as lean as this one, and all bore the same armor of black leather.

“I’m not here to fight you,” the Noxian repeated, “I’m here to talk.”

Urgot backhanded the Noxian with his arm cannon, sending the man tumbling across the catwalk like a ragdoll.

“I thought I told you,” Urgot levelled his canon at the man as he stood, pieces of porcelain clinking to the ground as the mask shattered to pieces, “I don’t talk to Noxians.”

“You keep saying that,” the man scoffed, a harshness edging into his voice, his face still hidden by a sheet of black hair, “but really, you don’t talk to anyone who doesn’t grovel at your feet.”

Urgot noticed the flames flickering in the man’s hand just in time to block the blast that ensued.  The flames burned like ice, cold and sharp.  The force of the flames forced Urgot back, and the man stood tall, pushing his long hair aside so Urgot knew exactly who was standing before him.

A dead man.

“I think you know I don’t grovel at the feet of the people I get rid of, Urgot.”

Urgot let out a low growl, wishing he could shoot this smug bastard in the face, but the ice-cold fire had shattered his arm cannon.  A crooked grin split across the man’s face, as those who knew his face muttered among Urgot’s throngs of followers, the name echoing in Urgot’s ears like an infuriating chant.

_Boram Darkwill_.

“You,” Urgot lurched forwards, “you were dead.”

“There are far more ways to topple an emperor than killing him,” Boram reasoned, “and there was a lot more you were unaware of; that you wouldn’t have believed.  You would not have stood with Noxus.  You had to go.”

“ **You lied to me**!” Urgot felt the anger boiling inside him.

“I lied to a lot of people,” Boram granted, “I betrayed a lot of people.  Don’t think you’re special in that regard.”

Boram took a half-step back, a smirk creeping across his face.

“I came to speak, but I see now that was pointless.  Talon, we’re leaving.”

The second Noxian, as if out of nowhere, appeared beside Boram, eyeing Urgot’s followers with distaste.

“No one leaves the Dredge unless I say so,” Urgot snarled.

“Then perhaps you’ve forgotten something else about me,” Boram turned around, trying his hair back as he walked, “I don’t take orders from scum.”

Boram stopped at the edge of the catwalk, turned back, and pulled his lips into a snarl.

“Least of all scum like you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Twist was probably expected, but I really don't care.


End file.
